


Cold Flashes

by Pyrotechnics_Service



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Ableist Language, Bay over Bae but Chloe survives, Because fuck you I can, Denial, Gen, Homophobic Language, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Nathan beats himself up constantly, Nathan's suffering a psychotic break through some of it and I don't know if I portrayed that right, Not the main focus though so I'm not really going to tag it, Stream of Consciousness, This is just one long rumination on Nathan's character, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Vomiting, also I don't know if this fits into any archive warnings so I didn't put any on so again yell at me, implied Amberscott, so i hope you enjoy, so if I didn't yell at me in the comments and I will take this down real fast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:06:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27200149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyrotechnics_Service/pseuds/Pyrotechnics_Service
Summary: Nathan processes what he did as people visit him in prison.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Cold Flashes

One month into Nathan Prescott’s incarceration, Kate Marsh came to see him. 

She slipped him some kind words, some smiles.

But still flinched a bit at his savage words. 

She didn’t leave in a hurry, but it would’ve hurt less if she had.

“I forgive you Nathan.” 

“W-why, bitch?”

“Because it’s what Jesus would’ve done.” 

Those sugar-sweet words left a bitter residue that coated Nathan’s mouth all the way to his stomach. 

He remembered her there. 

Tied up. 

Crying. 

His flashes pinning him in place, 

Harpooned like a whale. 

Before  His hands patted him on the shoulder and eased the twinge of guilt out.

Now there were no goddamn hands, no pale sweet numbness of drink or drug.

Just guilt bubbling underneath, static muffling his screams, smothering him in piles of goddamn fuzz--

_ stupid kid faggot moron you got what you deserved, you got what you needed idiot faggot psycho retard, poor little rich bitch-- _

The sickly sweet taste was washed out by his breakfast coming back up. 

It oozed across the floor, making shadows in the cold fluorescent light.

Like His pictures. 

Two months into his incarceration, Warren Graham came to see him. 

The kid stared a bit, didn’t stick around. 

“Hey, I just wanted to say, fuck you man.”

“Ha, g-get the fuck in l-line Gayram.”

He’d left then, his snarls echoing around the cell. 

Into Nathan’s cold ears.

Guy thought he was so original. 

So fucking brave, sticking up for “his” girl. 

Probably thought Nathan had fucked them while they were drugged. 

Like everyone else in this goddamn town. 

Honestly, he couldn’t blame them. 

But the static didn’t lie, and even in those fuzzy moments where everyone, everything moved like the world had some fucking blur effect cranked up to the max and he was the only person stuck in slow-mo--

He never touched them. 

_ You’re still a psycho, delusional, deserved everything you got, faggot, moron, fucking retard, moron, psycho, psycho, psycho-- _

He coughed and heaved onto the floor.

Nothing but bile came up.

It stung his nose as it came out. 

And sat on the floor in a puddle.

Two months and two weeks into his incarceration, Max Caulfield came to see him.

She sat a long while, looking at him. 

Not saying anything.

It would’ve felt better if she’d yelled. 

Screamed. 

Tried to hit him. 

Then, at least, he’d be getting the punishment he fucking deserved. 

“Why did you do it?”

The question hung in the air, like the blob after a camera flash. 

It looped around his head, being parroted by Him, Kate, Vicky,  **Daddy--**

“W-wish I had an a-answer.”

She still sat after that. 

Staring. 

He didn’t know whether the look in her eyes was pain or closure.

Either way, he couldn’t give her what she wanted.

The static swelled  _ idiot moron stupid faggot why cant you talk to her retard idiot stop it talk talk talk Nate take the pictures  _

“H-He….” his throat was moving again, puking something else instead of the bile boiling in his stomach, and he couldn’t stop it. “L-loved me. A-and I wanted to make h-him happy. A-and maybe I w-was always a b-bastard inside, but-- h-he made it….okay.”

She nodded then. 

Her face relaxing. 

Eyes gaining this calm look.

And his dry throat couldn’t squeeze out an insult. 

Three months into his incarceration, Chloe Price came to see him. 

The bullet had missed her important arteries by two fucking centimeters. 

She'd woken up the next goddamn day.

It was a miracle. 

Everyone had celebrated her. 

He’d heard the news stories. 

The receptionist kept the TV loud as fuck. 

She didn’t sit, didn’t relax.

She glared at him.

Occasionally her insults would bounce around his cell. 

Names like asshole, rich kid, Prescock, 

Menial shit.

Her voice got louder every time. 

Angrier. 

He didn’t care. 

He welcomed it. 

Used her anger as a balm, a patch for the fucking ulcer that bled guilt into his static-coated mind. 

He let her punish him. 

Scream at him. 

He needed it. 

She needed it to, he guessed.

“Why did you pick Rachel?!”

The relief stopped. 

The big question. 

The  _ needed _ question. 

One he’d done his goddamn best to avoid

Why did he pick Rachel?

Why did he pick Rachel? 

Why?

Why? 

Why did he pick her 

Why did _you_ pick her 

_ Why did you pick her you stupid retarded faggot  _

_ are you so pathetic you can’t think of an answer _

_ I don’t know isn’t fucking good enough _

_ She loved you loved her _

_ She loved you you  _ **_asshole_ **

_ Why did you pick her _

_ Why are you like this _

_ Why did you pick her idiot _

_ Why did you pick her psycho _

_ Why  _

_ Why  _

**_Why_ ** __

“I-It was his f-fucking love….” his voice wobbled, wavered, swayed like Rachel’s face had. 

Before it snapped into focus and her dead eyes had bored into his fucking soul. 

“Or her.”

The words slithered out of his mouth.

And splattered on the floor. 

She didn’t say anything. 

She looked like she wanted to. 

His own breaths were too loud in his ears.

He couldn’t look at her, couldn’t see her.

SHe was lying on the floor of his room, out cold. 

He took his camera off the wall, set it up before her.

Her eyes were lolling back, her hands limp and defeated but he couldn’t fucking stop. 

FLASH

This would make Him happy.

FLASH

This would be good.

FLASH

This would fix everything

FLASH

This couldn’t be wrong. 

This couldn’t be wrong.

This couldn’t be wrong.

_ It  _ **_was_ ** _ wrong. _

_ You know that now, psycho. _

_ You knew that then.  _

He knew it then.

It was a long time before he looked up. 

She was gone. 

He was alone. 

He hadn’t cried since the trial. 

But the salt burned his skin, trailed scorching hot trails down his goddamn cheeks,

It felt almost good. 

At least he finally fucking realized it.

How much of an asshole he really fucking was. 

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah so I dug through literal *years* of discourse on Nathan's character on his wiki page, and this was the result. This is really just a character exploration then an actual story. I hope I kept him in character lol. 
> 
> Anyway, next story (probably one shot) will be Resident Evil. Probably. I dunno. I'm not making any promises. I-I'm just gonna go (yeets headfirst out the window)


End file.
